Shankalamadingdong – the Joy of Angry Poetry

All Of You

I’ve had a good few days in the last fortnight when I could cheerfully have killed everyone I’ve ever met, followed by myself. I would have been equally content doing it the other way round. It’s not a marvellous state to be in. The sheer internal vibrations threaten to shake a fellow to pieces.

Thank goodness there’s whiskey, and sleep and occasional poems.

I’m genuinely baffled that there aren’t more killing sprees and general outbursts of insanity from people pushed to the edge of their tolerance zone. It probably speaks well of us that we usually manage to cram it down inside into self-loathing instead. Yeah, that’s ace.

Anger management tip of the week

If someone (or the world) makes you really angry, just reflect on the fact that one day they’ll all be dead.

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Fuck the living
Fuck the dead
Fuck the greed
That’s fucked my head
Fuck the money
Fuck the banks
Fucking bank charges
They’re fucking WANK!
Fuck the Rich
They Fuck the poor
Fuck your neighbour
Go Fuck a whore!
Fuck my Alarm
That goes off at dawn!
Fuck wrinkes
Fuck Porn
Fuck this poem
And now I’m through
So you Fuck me
And I’ll
Fuck you too.